


Sex is a Full-Contact Sport

by Dragonsquill (dragonsquill)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, PWP, Pre-Canon Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/pseuds/Dragonsquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there was a bet, and this is the aftermath.</p><p>(Or, a potpourri of sex, fluff, and humor)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex is a Full-Contact Sport

**Author's Note:**

> [Blanket Permission Statement](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/permission)

They made it through the door before Kíli’s hands wiggled all the way into his brother’s trousers. Later, they would both mark this as an accomplishment.

“That was _not funny_ ,” he growled against Fíli’s mouth, all sharp teeth and vibrating chest.

He felt Fíli grin against his scowl. “It was hilarious.”

Kíli snarled and pushed his brother against the stand their mother kept by the door for boots and coats. There was a loud _thud_ , but neither paid it much mind. “People call _me_ a brat-”

“Because you are a brat.” Fíli made short work of Kíli’s coat and tossed it to the side in a heap. 

“-but I’ve got nothing on you! You do _not_ make bets with Blue Mountain locals that they can’t pick me up!” 

Fíli rolled his hips and smirked when his brother’s eyes darkened. Kíli had him pinned to the wall, all alpha male dominance, which was sexy and sweet and all, but ultimately there was an entire piece of furniture stuck to his back. He caught Kíli’s trim hips and shoved, watching as his graceful brother stumbled away. “Why not? It was a sure thing and they paid for all your ale.” He prowled forward.

“I should’ve gone home with one of them,” Kíli pouted, but it wasn’t very convincing when he grabbed Fíli and pulled their bodies together again, “just to teach you a lesson.”

Fíli’s smile was feral. “You wouldn’t dare.” They tripped over a chair, twirled, and started fumbling in the general direction of their small back bedroom. Clever fingers made short work of bracers and leather jerkins, which were tossed carelessly to the side with an odd, metallic clang. “Besides, you loved the looks on their faces,” he shoved Kíli against the wall, pushing hard with his thigh and making Kíli hiss through his teeth, “when they saw you leaving with me.”

“Because they were amazed someone as ugly as you could get the time of day from me, much less a tumble.” 

“Mmhmm. It couldn’t be because your hand was on my-” Kíli cut him off with a hard kiss, sliding tongues. Tunics fell on the little hall table, laces ignored. Kíli’s hands were hot, callouses catching on thick blond curls as he curled his nails to run down Fíli’s chest to his belly. 

Skipping underwear had been a very good idea. It was absolutely worth the resultant shivering on their scrambling walk home from the pub.

But there were still the damn _boots_ to deal with.

Fíli snorted. “Need to get you a new mirror.” 

“Only because,”Kíli panted, moving his hips against that lovely knee, “you looked in the last one and broke it.” 

Belts were next, and Kíli fumbled for the handle so they could spill through the door. He caught his fingers for a moment in the laces at his brother’s waist, but extricated his hand safely and opted to bury his fingers in Fíli’s hair instead. “Boots,” he managed against Fíli’s mouth, before being distracted by that tongue and those fingers and hot breath panting over his. 

They did make it to the bed. This was their second accomplishment of the evening.

Fíli shoved him down and all but dove to his knees, grabbing at buckles and pulling at fur until he could throw both Kíli’s boots irritably at the far wall. “Why do we wear so many layers?!”

Kíli lifted his hips, shoving at his trousers and wiggling in a way he knew his brother found incredibly distracting. “Because it’s winter. Here, help with-thanks.”

He sprawled out a moment, finally stripped down to his socks. He would have moved to get them off, but then he heard Fíli’s boots – one thunk, two, and his brother was on top of him, straddling his waist and looking him over with blue eyes turned dark with lust. 

Kíli grinned. 

Then scowled.

Fíli still had his pants on, though they were open. And there was a delightful hint of golden curls that hinted at exactly what Kíli wanted to see. And touch. And possibly taste.

“You’re overdressed!” 

Fíli smirked at him and moved forward, knees tight to Kíli’s hips, and _ground down_. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he purred. “I think I’m just as I want to be.”

Kíli keened, arching aggressively as Fíli leaned forward and grabbed his wrists, pinning them beside his head. He leaned forward, surrounding Kíli in golden hair that smelled of snow, smoke, and metal, of _home_ and _Fíli._ Kíli tugged at that hold, just to feel the muscles in Fíli’s legs tighten, the pull against his wrists as muscles flexed in his brother’s arms. He was taller than Fíli now, but he wasn’t as strong. His grin was sharp and wild as Fíli ground down again, his hips moving smoothly to match his brother’s thrusts. 

“You,” Fíli smiled down at him, a smirk with an edge of infinite fondness, “would never go home with anyone else.”

A twist of his hips, a kick of his legs and Fíli was on his back, his hands still gripping Kíli’s wrists even as he let out a husky laugh. “No,” Kíli admitted, “I wouldn’t.” Because he couldn’t imagine anyone else like this, spread out on his bed in a halo of honey-brown braids and a smile, breathing in sync with him, wrestling and laughing and hard. “But you’re giving me half the coin you won.”

Fíli considered this. “60/40. It was hard on me, seeing those brutes trying their best lines on you.”

A snort. “If it was bothering you, you’d’ve knocked their heads in.” His hips moved a bit at that thought, involuntarily, his lips parting on a little pant. He cursed under his breath when Fíli raised an eyebrow at the movement.

This smile was utterly filthy. “Something I should know, brother?”

“Shut up and take the rest of your clothes off.”

Fíli laughed, his body moving beneath Kíli’s, but he let go of his brother’s wrists and lifted his hips helpfully so Kíli could pull off the last of his clothes. He started to reach for his own socks, but Fíli, sitting up now, grabbed Kíli’s hips and pulled him into his lap. “Leave them on.” He smirked. “It’s cute.”

Kíli snarled and muttered because he hated being called that, but then his thighs were tucked against Fíli’s, and Fíli was biting at his neck and shoulders, and he could deal with being called cute if it meant raking nails along his brother’s back and kissing that ridiculously adorable nose.

They found their rhythm easily. It hadn’t always been that way – there’d been more than one knee in a stomach and multiple instances of desperate wiggling, but always with laughter and _let’s just try that again._ Now it was easy, rocking bodies, nibbling teeth, and dueling tongues until Kíli’s breath was coming in harsh pants. “Kíli,” Fíli murmured, all the teasing gone and only affection and lust left behind, “do you..?”

“Yeah.” Kíli arched one more time, gripping Fíli’s shoulders, then made himself still. “Yeah. House to ourselves.” He flashed a flushed grin. At Fíli’s return smirk he laughed and let go, falling back on the bed with his ass an open invitation in Fíli’s lap.

“Subtle.”

“You love it.” No argument was forthcoming. Obviously. “Get the oil.” 

They didn’t do this often. It was fairly new, and oh how they’d messed it up the first couple of times when they went past fingers (but mmm the fingers had been wonderful), and it was . . . noisy, no matter how they went about it. But-

Slick fingers and warm oil, Fíli’s voice murmuring to him in Khuzdul – _“Mahizu uh khathuzhur, Kili, nadadith, âzyungâluh”_ – only here, only in bed and alone, sending shivers down Kíli’s spine – then Fíli’s knees under his back and the push and-

Kíli groaned, down in his chest, and arched off the bed until the only things he felt were sheets against his shoulders and his brother inside his body. “Fíli~ii,” he whined, and heard an answering chuckle that was lost in a moan as Fíli’s hips started to move.

Kíli curled one hand up, in the sheets, fingers tangling in his own hair. The other arm wrapped around Fíli’s thigh, tracing hard muscle as it flexed beneath the skin; coiled strength and lust all focused on _him_. He dug in, gasping, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment until that voice – “Kíli, look at me” – not demanding but asking, always asking, until he opened his eyes and looked at his brother’s eyes wild with desire and warm with adoration all at once.

He hooked his ankles together and tightened his legs. “Harder’s okay,” he said, in possibly the greatest understatement of his life. And then, because two could play that game - even if one's pronunciation was an embarrassment outside the bedroom - _"Uthurukul, Nadad._ "

Fíli, always one to give Kíli what he wanted, though he’d deny it to his last breath, gave him _harder._

Then it was shouts and groans, scrabbling hands and the slap of skin on skin. Kíli writhed and demanded, murmured and begged; Fíli grunting on each thrust and breathing each time he slid away. Kíli let go of the sheet to wrap a hand around himself and stroke – should’ve used some of the oil, but it was too late now and he was too close, hot and full and perfect and _Fíli_ making up for the stroke being too dry – 

When Kíli came, it was perfect. But it always was, even in the beginning, when they were fumbling in the dark and blushing with every touch and lasted about thirty seconds.

“Kíli,” Fíli breathed, and his hands were vices on Kíli’s hips as he lost his rhythm. He started to pull away but Kíli grabbed at him with a snarl.

“Stay,” he ordered, and Fíli stayed, sharp, desperate little thrusts until he came with a roar (Kíli felt smug every time and his cock twitched even though it was much, much too soon) and a flush of warmth that made Kíli sigh and wiggle happily.

Fíli leaned over and scooped him up, wrapping his arms around Kíli’s shuddering back as the movement shifted Fíli inside in one last little spark of pleasure that was a little too far on the side of discomfort. Kíli slumped forward, his knees a lazy spread beside Fíli’s thighs, and pressed a kiss to his brother’s sweaty temple. “Mmm,” he said, succinctly, and kissed that nose again, because he could. 

Fíli laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest to Kíli’s and catching on until Kíli was chuckling and grinning too, his hands buried in a thick mass of silken hair. 

“Seventy/Thirty,” he murmured against Fíli’s ear. He may have added a flicker of tongue, just for emphasis. “I did all the work. You just sat there looking smug.”

“Sixty/forty and two new arrowheads.”

“Deal.”

\-----

Thorin nearly ran into his sister when she came to a sudden stop in her doorway. 

More than nearly, really, because she had loaded him up with all of their purchases so her hands would be free to open the door, and he couldn’t quite see over them. But, as it was her fault, he didn’t feel particularly bad for bumping into her. 

She heaved a truly impressive sigh. 

“What?” he rumbled. “I can’t get in with you standing there, sister.”

“You’ll barely be able to get in if I move,” she muttered, but she turned and removed the two uppermost packages before stepping into the house. “Watch your feet.”

Thorin had no way to watch his feet, so he stumbled over something distinctly wooden. He came to a stop with a grumble and waited until Dís could unload him completely. 

Then he took in the house.

It was the coat stand that he’d stepped on. It was knocked on its side. Beyond that, in the kitchen, were a broken plate and some kind of potted herb lying sideways on the floor, along with the chair he usually sat in when he visited for dinner. His heart beat fast for a moment – _robbers_? – until he noticed two distinctly familiar coats tossed carelessly on the floor by the door leading into the rest of the house (two coats too expensive to be thrown around like that, ungrateful brats).

This time, Thorin sighed.

They tracked the destruction.

In the small living space, bracers were tangled on the floor with two metal candlesticks. One boot – Kíli’s, Thorin thought – was perched drunkenly on the back of the sofa.

The siblings leaned a bit to the side, to see into the tiny hall that led to the two bedrooms. Two tunics – one red, one blue – were draped over the decorative metal bowl on the hall table. 

One belt was lying on the floor beneath the hallway arch. The other was caught on their grandfather’s knife, which was hanging on the wall in a place of honor.

The door to the bedroom was open.

Thorin and Dís looked at each other.

And went back to the kitchen.

“So,” Thorin said in a would-be-casual voice, “I take it they weren’t expecting you back until tomorrow.”

“No.”

“You should really know better than to come home early.”

“If you don’t stop smirking at me, brother, I will lay into you with this ladle.”

Thorin considered this. “You could come stay at the forge tonight.”

“What about all these packages?”

“Leave them. They’ll know you were home-”

Dís smiled slowly, “And be mortified.”

Thorin nodded. Dís patted his shoulder in approval. “I’ll even buy dinner at the pub,” Thorin offered. 

“And leave a ring here.”

Thorin looked down at his hands. “A ring?”

“Oh, I want them to know for certain that you were here with me.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow, removed the ring from his left hand, and laid it on the table.

Then he offered his sister his arm, and led her out into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to Phoebe_Artemis who, when I asked if I should write Durincest sexytimes, basically said "Hell, yes!" (in a nicer way), and Werecakes, who has immediate links to dirty words in made-up languages. Because in fandom, ladies and gentlemen, we show our affection with dwarf porn.
> 
> The Khuzdul used above – in which Fili terribly abuses an ancient and honorable language to get his lover hot and bothered in bed (*eyebrow waggle*) comes from  
> [Khuzdul4u](http://khuzdul4u.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Mahizu uh khathuzhur, Kili, nadadith, âzyungâluh’ Is, “You make me crazy, Kili, (younger) brother, beloved” (used to sort of encompass the sort of “you are my everything” they have going on here).
> 
> "Uthurukul, Nadad." (Harder, brother) 
> 
> For more information, behold [My tumblr post](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/post/81054124031/translation-notes-for-sex-is-a-full-contact-sport) on the matter.


End file.
